


nightmares / dreams

by svitzian



Series: finnpoe fics [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, F/M, M/M, Nightmares, Poe's Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 06:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21405709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svitzian/pseuds/svitzian
Summary: Poe has a nightmare. Finn helps him through it, and they talk.
Relationships: Kes Dameron & Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron/Finn, Shara Bey & Poe Dameron, Shara Bey/Kes Dameron
Series: finnpoe fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539958
Comments: 10
Kudos: 161





	nightmares / dreams

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this spur of the moment. not sure why i've been focusing so much on nightmares lately, but here i am.

Finn had finally started to think that he’d gotten used to this whole nightmare business.

His own nightmares, of course, were never a stranger to him. He’d had them as long as he could remember. Sure, he wasn’t very good at _dealing_ with them, or calming himself down, but he’d learned to live with them all the same. They’d become a part of his life, and one that he’d grown very accustomed to over the years, to the point where they hardly seemed like notable occurrences to him anymore.

Poe’s nightmares were different.

They’d talk about them sometimes. Finn had never told anyone about his nightmares before he’d met Poe. In the Order, he’d probably be sent to reconditioning if he admitted to him. Talking to Rey was a possibility, yes, but she had so much going on, with all this Jedi business, and it just never felt right to take up her time and worry her with his own issues.

With Poe, though… it had happened naturally. As naturally as it could. He hadn’t gotten to make the choice. Not when he’d woken up with a scream and a jolt of terror in the middle of one of the first nights he spent in Poe’s quarters. He could _feel_ the lightsaber searing his back again, he was certain of it—until suddenly, Poe’s worried face was in front of him, his hands holding Finn’s cheeks as he rapidly threw words and reassurances at the other. It had been embarrassing, to be so vulnerable and afraid in front of the man who he only ever wanted to be brave in front of. He’d cried more than he wanted to admit that night. But Poe had stayed with him through it all, had held him and pressed little kisses to the top of his head and told him it would be alright. Not once did he ask what the dream had been about.

Finn told him, anyways. Poe held him tighter, and they stayed up together for the rest of the night.

Not too soon after Finn’s first nightmare with Poe around—only a few nights later, really—he’d woken up to Poe screaming, this time, and it had been his turn to play the role of comforter. He felt out of his element, a little too unused to affection to feel as though he could do any good. He did what came naturally, though. He held Poe, and he tried to murmur the same reassurances Poe had one said to him. He didn’t ask Poe about his dream. Poe told him, still.

That had become a routine for them. One of them would wake from a nightmare, usually screaming or sweating or sobbing or some combination of the three. The other would reassure them. They’d talk about it, if they felt like talking, and then they’d hold each other close until they finally (hopefully) fell asleep again.

They’d gotten know each other’s nightmares, too.

Finn had a lot of them. Most of them had to do with death. He’d see Slip dying on Jakku, feel the man’s hand streaking blood across his helmet in his last moments—or Han, back on Starkiller. He’d dream about Starkiller Base, about lying in the snow with a saber wound on his back, knowing he would die there. He’d dream about being captured by the Order so vividly that when he woke, he swore his neck was burning from the vibroblade of the executioner. He’d dream about his friends being hurt, or captured, and being unable to help them. He’d hear Rey screaming, or Rose, or _anyone_, but the ones that hurt the most were Poe. If there was anything that could make him feel pure terror, it was seeing Poe hurting.

Poe dreamed about friends getting hurt, too—only Poe had lived to see a lot more hurt than Finn had. He’d had friends, fellow pilots who had died, and he would relive their deaths just as Finn did for Han and Slip. By now, Finn knew their names and their stories: Muran, the New Republic pilot, or Oddy, the Black Squadron mechanic who had been manipulated by the Order. One that Finn knew hurt Poe especially badly was L’ulo, the Duros who had flown with both Poe and his mother and had died as a member of his squadron. L’ulo had all but raised Poe, was all but family. Finn couldn’t imagine losing someone so important.

Even the nightmares in which he lost L’ulo, though, weren’t Poe’s worst—nor were the ones reminding him of his mutiny, of all the lives it had cost, of all the guilt he still felt. The worst dreams of all belonged to Kylo Ren. Finn hadn’t truly ever thought about what torture Poe had undergone before they’d rescued each other, and even now, after Poe had done his best to describe it, he couldn’t begin to comprehend it. To have someone force their way into your mind, to be so powerless to resist as a monster like Kylo pulled out information bit by bit, piece by piece… It was Poe’s worst nightmare, undoubtedly, and unfortunately, it was his most common one, too.

Finn had assumed that it was the one he was having tonight.

He hadn’t woken up yet, and there was no screaming, but the moment Finn began to sleepily blink himself awake, he knew something was wrong. Poe was tossing and turning, and yes, he was usually a pretty restless sleeper, but this was out of the ordinary. He was making noises, too—murmured little things, like pleas or cries—but Finn couldn’t make out any words. What he could make out, even in the darkness of their quarters, was the layer of sweat across Poe’s skin.

He had to do something, and so he braced himself with a deep breath for the scream he knew was going to come before he reached out, hands landing on Poe’s shoulders as he shook him awake gently.

A scream, however, didn’t come.

A sob—wretched and guttural, so much so that it almost was more of a _howl_—left his mouth instead.

Finn had never heard that noise before.

Just as quickly as the wail had ended, another followed, and Finn was spurred out of his momentary shock and into action.

“Poe. Poe, hey. _Poe_.” He tried not to think about the slight tremor in his own voice, the indication of his own fear and uncertainty, and he hoped Poe couldn’t hear it. Poe had never been this distraught before, this anguished, and it made Finn’s chest twist in an incredibly painful way. “Babe, I’m right here. It’s okay. You’re safe, you’re right here, you’re with me.”

Poe didn’t hear—or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. He kept sobbing so loudly that Finn wasn’t sure his words would even be heard if he continued talking, and so he changed tactics. He shifted quickly in the bed, and without hesitation, wrapped his arms around Poe, holding the man as firmly as he could without totally restricting him.

Like this, he could _feel_ Poe’s sobs. They were wracking the man’s body. His skin was covered in sweat, and he was trembling, too, as though all of that wasn’t enough. Finn’s heart was breaking, and his own fear was growing, but he pushed all of that down. Poe was the priority right now. He needed to make sure Poe was okay.

“I’m right here, babe,” he murmured again, wondering if he was babbling to reassure Poe or himself. The answer didn’t matter much. He swallowed, and pressed a kiss to the top of Poe’s head from where he sat behind the man, arms still holding him close. At least like this, he didn’t have to see Poe’s face, or the tear tracks he knew were gliding over his cheeks. He could feel Poe’s back, though, and the man wasn’t breathing _at all_ like he should’ve been. His breaths were quick and erratic and shaking, and Finn tried again to gather up all his courage, putting it all into making his voice firm as he spoke up again.

“Listen to me. Hey, listen to me, Poe. I need you to breathe, okay? Just like you tell me to, all the time.” It wasn’t a lie. Poe was the one who had taught him how to do this. Finn just hoped he was as good of a guide as Poe was. “You know how to do it, don’t you? Breathe in for three, hold, breathe out for three. C’mon. I’ll do it with you, we’ll do it together.” He held Poe tighter, hand rubbing over the man’s arm, and he drew in a deep breath to begin the routine, hoping to the stars that Poe would follow along.

For a while, it felt like he was making no progress, and that made Finn panic. Maybe he should’ve called someone. Maybe he wasn’t equipped to deal with this. Maybe, just maybe, so many years of life as a trooper, unable to express or share emotions, had made him ineffective at this, and no matter how much time he spent with Poe or how hard he tried, he’d never learn how to do it.

But then Poe took in a breath that, while still far too shaky, lasted a little bit longer than the shallow ones that had preceded it, and Finn closed his eyes, trying to reassure himself. Maybe he could do this, after all. Maybe he _could_ calm Poe down, so long as he kept himself calm in the meantime.

Finn kept breathing, slow and steady, and by some miracle of the Force, Poe kept trying to follow along, until suddenly his heavy sobs faded into quieter tears. Finn didn’t let go of him then, though, instead closing his eyes and leaning into the man somewhat, letting his head rest against Poe’s curls. It always helped him to physically feel Poe after a nightmare, and he hoped that physical contact would be equally helpful to Poe.

“Don’t have to talk.” That was one of Finn’s usual statements for when the screaming and tears finally began to subside. It was a disclaimer, a clarification, something to try and absolve Poe of any guilt he might have. “Just sit with me, and… keep breathing, yeah? Like you are now. ‘Cause I’m here with you, Poe, and I’m sure as hell not going anywhere. Spend the rest of my kriffing life at your side if I can, yeah?” He tried for some lightness in his tone, a little joking around. At the very least, it might distract Poe, and that would be more than enough to make it worth it.

Poe nodded just slightly, and if he hadn’t felt the movement from his position leaning against the man, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. That was okay, though. As long as Poe stayed here, trying to match Finn’s breaths, Finn was okay with things.

For a long time, they didn’t move. Finn wouldn’t dare, of course, not when it was clear that Poe still needed him, that he wasn’t fully himself again just yet. Nightmares stuck with you, Finn had come to realize. Sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. However long it took, Finn would stay here.

Finally, though, after what felt like an eternity, Poe’s body began to relax against him. He leaned into Finn’s embrace a little more, his body going somewhat slack. Finn knew it was probably more due to sheer exhaustion than actual relaxation, but a victory was a victory, and Finn would take it where he could get it.

“You’re all good,” Finn murmured, scooting back a little so that Poe could rest against him more comfortably. He rearranged their positions until Poe was the one leaning against him, now, his head in Finn’s lap. Instead of trying to wrap his arms around the pilot, Finn reached down to take his hand instead. In this position, he could see Poe’s face. Despite all the tears still painting his cheeks, or the redness and blotchiness of his face, Poe was still somehow the most beautiful, handsome thing he’d ever seen.

“There you are,” he whispered, a small smile itching at the corners of his mouth—and as he reached down to wipe at some of Poe’s tears, he even got a little attempt at a grin from the man. A good sign. Even if he didn’t feel it, he was trying to be okay.

Finn sighed, his thumb trailing upwards to push some of Poe’s curls out of his face. “Need a haircut soon, I think.” Maybe not the most pertinent of discussion points, but distraction helped sometimes, too—and so did making Poe laugh. Finn was pretty good at that sometimes. “All these curls are getting out of hand. They won’t fit under your helmet soon.” As though to prove his point, he squashed them down a bit with his free hand, watching as they sprung back up the moment he pulled away. “I could give you a cut, you know. Did it for the other cadets in the Order, when it was time to get our hair back to regulation standards.” Short, no frills. “What do you think? We could do a shave, a little buzzcut. Or—you’d look good bald, wouldn’t you?”

That did it. Finally, he earned a real smile from Poe, even if it was still weak and a little subdued. It was _there_, though, the light shining through, and it made Finn grin even more in response. Poe met his eyes, too, before he spoke up.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Poe’s voice was quiet and hoarse, no doubt from all the sobbing, but Finn didn’t mind. He was just relieved to hear it again.

He shook his head, feeling his cheeks flush a little. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. Not when I know how much you love your pretty hair.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of Poe’s head right alongside his curls, and when he drew back, he exhaled slowly, taking a look at the man again.

Stars. How he loved him.

Silence fell over the both of them, but it was comfortable silence, the kind that you didn’t automatically feel a pressure to fill. Finn could stay here for years, with Poe laying across his lap and the pilot’s hand in his, and never say a word for the rest of his life. Whatever happened now was up to Poe—what he wanted, what he was comfortable with—and Finn was fine with letting him take the lead.

After a while, Poe moved again. He didn’t shift out of Finn’s lap, but instead, reached up his free hand to trace across his own chest. Finn didn’t quite understand what the destination was until finally, his hand came to rest just below his neck. He was holding that chain again.

Finn had noticed it before, because how could he not, given how much time he spent staring at every little bit of Poe. A small silver chain, with a silver ring, just a little bit worn, hanging in the middle of it. He held it a lot. At first, Finn thought that maybe it was just something to do with fashion, or something to hold so that he could keep his hands busy (and Finn certainly understood that, because he too was fairly restless at times). But every time he held it—just like now—a flash of _something_ passed over his face, some emotion that Finn, as well as he could read Poe by now, just couldn’t make out.

Finn didn’t realize he’d been focusing on the damn ring in Poe’s fist until Poe spoke up, startling him despite the gentle quietness of his voice.

“The dream was about my mom.”

Poe’s mom. Shara Bey. Finn knew that, by now, because he knew a lot about Poe, and because Poe _loved_ to talk about his mom. For good reason, too, Finn had learned, because the woman seemed like something of a legend.

Poe had been born during the war. His mother had been a pilot, a lieutenant who flew A-wings and was damn good at it, too. His father—Kes, Finn remembered—was a Sergeant, and he fought on the ground. Poe hadn’t seen them much in his first few years of life, he’d told Finn, but he didn’t remember much of that time.

Shara Bey, though, was remarkable. Finn would never forget the way Poe’s face lit up with pride when he’d recounted her stories: flying during the Battle of Endor, helping to destroy the second Death Star, escorting Leia (_General Organa_, back when she was a princess and not a general) on her missions. She’d flown with Luke Skywalker, Poe had even shared, and then he’d told him all about the Force tree that he’d grown up with in the front yard of their ranch on Yavin IV. Perhaps most remarkably of all, though, and the strongest testament to her ability, was the fact that she’d been the one to teach Poe Dameron to fly—and if Poe was good, that meant that Shara Bey must have been _great._

There was one other thing that Finn knew about Shara Bey, though.

She wasn’t alive.

He didn’t know the circumstances. He knew, though, that whenever Poe spoke of his family, Kes was the only name that came up. Poe would always comm his father back on Yavin IV, not his parents. For all that Poe loved to talk about his mother, she never made it into the present tense. Finn picked up on that, and he knew what it meant.

But Poe had a story to tell. Finn wasn’t going to let his assumptions and overthinking get in the way of that.

“Your mom, yeah?” His voice was quiet, but he didn’t tear his gaze away from Poe, not when the other man was staring at him so intently. He couldn’t. Poe was opening up, was allowing himself to be vulnerable. It was Finn’s job to support him right now.

Poe nodded, a little bob of his head from where it was resting on Finn’s lap. Finn didn’t need the Force to be able to feel the lump in the other man’s throat. “Yeah. My mom.” The fist that had been gripping his necklace had relaxed some, but still, he covered that ring with his hand, like he still needed to feel it close to him. He took a slow breath, and Finn knew what was coming before he heard the words. “She died.”

Finn was at a loss. What could he do, how could he respond? He couldn’t just state the insensitive truth—_I know_. What sort of comfort was he supposed to offer? How was he supposed to react? His mind was working over capacity, but thankfully, where overthinking failed, nature took over. His body acted on its own accord. He squeezed Poe’s hand, and when he spoke again, his voice was even more quiet, his eyes carefully watching Poe.

“I’m sorry.”

That was inadequate, he knew, but was there an adequate way to respond to death? What was the _right_ way to react to it?

“Don’t be sorry.” That was Poe’s automatic response whenever Finn uttered those words, it seemed. “It was a long time ago. I was little.”

_Being little doesn’t make things hurt less_, Finn wanted to say. Some of his worst memories in the Order, the ones that came to haunt him the most, were of his own childhood spent learning to be a cog in a machine along with hundreds of other scared, vulnerable children.

He didn’t say that, though. This wasn’t about him.

Instead, he took a little bit of initiative. Poe wanted to talk, it seemed, and so he didn’t feel so out of bounds for asking his next question, his thumb gently gliding across the back of Poe’s palm. “… was that what the nightmare was about?”

Poe nodded again. Finn watched him and swore he could feel heaviness in his chest, the same heaviness he knew Poe was probably feeling right now. Maybe the Force _did_ work like that, after all.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.” He sighed, and his free hand momentarily released the ring to reach up and wipe at his face, only to return moments later. His gaze flickered to Finn, and that confident, cocky, best-pilot-in-the-galaxy exterior was nowhere to be found. There was no need for it when it was just the two of them, and certainly not when they were in a moment like this. “You don’t mind if I…?”

He didn’t need to finish, because Finn was already shaking his head. “No. No, never. You know that.” Whenever Poe needed to talk, _whatever_ he needed to talk about, Finn was here for him, and vice versa. The rule went unspoken. He squeezed Poe’s hand yet again, hoping to reassure him a little more. “You tell me whatever you want to tell me. I love you, Poe.”

Poe tried for a smile, probably aiming to show some gratitude or something along those lines, but his mind was elsewhere. Finn knew that before he even started talking. “Well. I—I was eight. And I loved my mom, so much. But you know that, I’ve told you that.” _You have, _Finn thought, though he knew he wouldn’t mind hearing all about it again, if it made Poe smile like it usually did.

He cleared his throat, and shifted a little, clearly trying to find a way to get the words trapped inside of him out into the open. “She used to take me up to fly with her all the time, in that janky old A-wing. Only one seat, but she let me sit on her lap, showed me how all the controls worked.” Finn could almost see it—a little, half-toothless Poe Dameron eagerly slapping puttons and pushing switches.

“She’d take me up in the afternoon, usually, before it got too dark out and before the weather got bad. It would thunderstorm a lot, usually right around dinnertime.” He paused for a moment, just long enough to make Finn consider speaking up, telling him he didn’t have to talk about this if it hurt too badly—but then he swallowed down that silence and kept going. “I still remember that day. It was so nice out, but hot, and I didn’t want to do my chores.”

“When she went out to the A-wing that afternoon, I followed her. I went up in that thing almost every day with her, and kriff, Finn, I just thought it was the coolest thing in the galaxy, I couldn’t get enough. But she—she stopped me, right when she was putting on her helmet, and she said ‘Poe, you’re not allowed to come up with me today, because you didn’t do your chores.’ She was always like that, always big into the rules.” _Unlike you,_ Finn thought.

“I was _mad._ I mean, angry. I started crying, and all that, you know, eight-year-old stuff. My dad had to come out and bring me back in the house, because I was half ready to throw myself on that ship when she was taking off. I was yelling, and all that. Told her she was being unfair, and mean, and—” And here, Poe’s voice finally caught. Finally, his breath hitched. “I told her I was so mad, I’d never forgive her, ever.”

Finn softened almost immediately. He knew where this was going. He _knew_ it, and already, the pain was building in his chest. “Poe…”

Poe kept on going, heedless of Finn’s murmur. “My dad grounded me, of course. I had to do all of my chores right away, and then go to my room—no playing around, no doing anything fun, just sit there. So that was what I did. And I had this little window, and I kept staring out at the sky. I kept thinking that I might see her, might see that A-wing. I’d think about it, and then get madder and madder, and think about it some more, and it would just keep going. But I didn’t see the A-wing.”

“I—I saw smoke, instead. A little while away. And I didn’t connect the dots, cause I was just a kid, and I was really angry. But then my dad finally called me down for dinner, and I asked what the smoke was, and his face, just…” Poe shook his head, and Finn could see the tears forming anew in his eyes. “… he ran out of the house so fast. I didn’t know what to do. He was just _gone_, and then I—I realized my mom wasn’t there. And Mom always came home for dinner, _always._ That was another one of the rules. Dinner together, every night, all three of us, no exceptions. It was so important to her.”

Finn’s throat felt like it was tied up in knots, and he couldn’t understand how Poe was still talking. This wasn’t Finn’s trauma, wasn’t his past, and yet it hurt like it was anyways. He met Poe’s eyes again, astonished at the fact that no tears had fallen yet, and shook his head, voice quiet in the silence of the room. “Poe, I’m so sorry…”

“I just remember being so scared.” The admission was raw in its honesty, and Finn realized that in the course of their relationship, in all of the gone-awry missions, all of the nightmares, all of the near-death experiences, Poe had never said those words. Never had Poe Dameron admitted to being scared. “I wanted to run after my dad, but I felt like I couldn’t move. I just stayed there and cried. And—my dad came home, finally, and he told me that she was _gone_, just like that, and—it didn’t make sense, you know? It didn’t. I said to him, I said—‘Mom was one of the best pilots in the Rebellion, Dad, Mom took down the second Death Star. Mom can’t crash.’ It was clear weather that day, too—no storms, no rain. And my mom was such a good pilot. But he… he just kept telling me that it had happened, and he was crying, and _I_ was crying. I didn’t stop crying for a week.”

Finally, a tear slipped down Poe’s cheek, and Finn felt helpless to do anything but watch. He wanted so badly to reach out, to take away the pain he could see written all over Poe’s face, but things weren’t that simple, and they never would be. Instead, he swallowed, and Poe kept on going still.

“I wasn’t allowed to see the body. My dad thought I—I wouldn’t be able to handle it, that it would only hurt me more. He was probably right, too, but I…” He sniffled a little, clearly trying to keep tears at bay, keep himself from falling apart entirely like he had before. Stars, he was so strong. “… I just felt like, even with the funeral and everything, I never really got to say goodbye. And I never really got to tell her ‘_I forgive you.’_ For so long, I was angry at myself, because what if _I_ made her crash, you know? What if I—what if I made her angry, and she crashed thinking that I—I really wouldn’t forgive her, ever?”

In spite of all the pain in his chest, all the heaviness he felt at Poe’s story, a sudden wave of something like determination filled Finn up from his very core. He was shaking his head almost immediately, and his grip on Poe’s hand tightened, trying to keep the man he loved safe from those kinds of thoughts, the kind that chased after you, all the _what ifs._ Finn knew them well.

“Poe, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t.” He was shocked at how firm his own voice sounded, but he didn’t let it trip him up, not with the sudden urgency he felt to make sure that Poe really understood that he hadn’t caused his mother’s death. “She was your mother. And you—you were a _kid,_ Poe. You would’ve forgiven her. She would’ve known that.”

Poe sighed, and as he rubbed at his eyes one more time, smearing his tears into his skin, he nodded, letting out something like a sad sort of laugh before he spoke again. “I know. I—I know that, now.” There was an implication there—_I didn’t used to_—but Finn let that go. What mattered was here and now. “But I just… I think about her a lot, sometimes. I think about that day.”

Finn let out a slow exhale, shaking his head again, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Poe’s head once more. He didn’t know what to say. He was out of his element yet again, for what felt like the millionth time, and when he finally did manage some words, he couldn’t shake the fear that they wouldn’t be enough, that he wouldn’t be able to help Poe out of this pain. “… I’m sure she loved you just as much as you love her, Poe. Probably—probably more, even,” he murmured, watching the other man’s face intently as he spoke. “And… she’d be proud of you, you know? Hell. Commander Poe Dameron of the Resistance, best pilot in the galaxy.” Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. Maybe it wouldn’t help. But he had to try, and he had to start somewhere.

Thank the kriffing Force, Poe managed a little smile in response, even if it was sad and distant still. _Little victories. _“I know she would be.” His voice was a little firmer now, a little less shaky, and he seemed to be regaining some of his strength. “I know. And… kriff, I can’t even imagine if she’d ever gotten a chance to meet you.”

Finn froze, for a moment. He couldn’t imagine that—meeting Poe’s parents. He knew that Kes knew about him, but the idea of actually _meeting _him was daunting, to say the very least. What if he came up short, if he didn’t live up to Kes’s expectations? What would he do if he wasn’t enough in the eyes of the parents of the man he loved more than anything or anyone else in the galaxy?

He shook his head, shooing those thoughts away. It wasn’t his time to be worried and afraid, he reminded himself. Poe was his focus. Poe was what mattered. He tried to crack a smile as he looked back down at the man, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Poe replied, and it came out so naturally in that teasing lilt of his that for a moment, Finn really felt that everything was okay again. “She’d love you. Are you kidding? She loved bravery. Loved people who weren’t afraid to do what was right.”

After all this time, after all the compliments Poe had showered on him, Finn still couldn’t wrap his head around them right. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to. “I think I’d love her just as much.” After a moment, he let a smile slip onto his lips. “I certainly love her son, and he seems to get all of his fancy piloting skills from her, now doesn’t he?”

Poe laughed a little but didn’t say anything in response. Once more, the two of them lapsed into silence—and this time, when the silence was finally broken moments later, it wasn’t broken by words. Instead, Poe was moving around, shifting until he was sitting up on the bed. Finn initially thought that maybe he was ready to attempt sleep again, but then his hands were moving to his chest and then up over his head, and then, finally, a hand was outstretched in front of Finn, a shining glint of silver in the middle of Poe’s open palm. A ring, on a chain. Poe’s ring.

Finn didn’t reach out to take it, and he didn’t speak, either. He stared at it for a few moments, enough to make Poe smile just a little more and nudge his leg with his free hand.

“C’mon, buddy. It’s not a rancor, it won’t hurt you, no need to stare. Take it.” Finn glanced up at Poe, eyes searching as though asking again for permission—and when Poe nodded, aiming to encourage him, he finally reached out, carefully taking the chain into his hands and looking down at it as he spoke.

“This is important to you, Poe.” He might not have known exactly what it was, but he knew that much. Finn wasn’t going to take something that meant so much to Poe.

“Yeah, it is,” Poe replied rather seamlessly, and Finn didn’t need to look up to know that his gaze was focused on Finn’s face. “It’s important to me, and I want it to be important to you, too, so I’m giving it to you. Put it on.”

One more moment of looking down at the chain, one more moment of uncertainty as to whether he should accept the gift, and then Finn took a deep breath, finally looking up and at the pilot as he slipped the chain over his head. The metal of the ring felt cold against his chest, and he glanced down at it for a moment before his gaze returned to Poe.

Poe, who was smiling at him like he hung the stars in the kriffing sky. Poe, who was reaching out for his hands now, taking both of Finn’s into his own and holding them carefully.

“I want you to have that,” he began, words slow and purposeful, eyes locked onto Finn’s, “because it was my mother’s. That’s why I wear it, why it means so much to me. That was my mother’s wedding ring, and she wore it every day, into every battle she ever went into, every mission.”

Finn was convinced that the world was slowing down to a stop around them. His heart was beating too fast, and Poe could probably feel his palms sweating, and he wanted to speak, but he didn’t want to dare break this moment. His mother’s wedding ring. _Wedding. _Now, there was a thought.

“My dad gave it to me. He wanted my mom to be buried with it, but he told me he wanted me to have it even more. Said it was a piece of Mom, something to keep with me. And… something to give away, too.” Poe’s words were so careful, so intentional, and his gaze equally so. “When I found the right person, he said.” After a moment’s pause, he let out a little chuckle, no doubt amused by what was probably the shell-shocked, wide-eyed look of Finn’s own face.

“You don’t have to give me this.” It seemed like something he should say. Not that he didn’t _want_ it—because kriff, now that he was thinking about it, he wanted it badly, wanted to have something that meant so much to Poe and now, so much to him, too. But in the end, this was Poe’s ring, not his, and it was Poe’s choice to make.

Poe’s choice, which, as he smiled again, he seemed extraordinarily confident in. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He leaned forward, and Finn was too preoccupied to even realize that the kiss was coming until it was happening. It was short, but it conveyed all the emotion in the world, all the words that suddenly didn’t need to be said, and for that reason, it felt like it lasted a blissful eternity.

When finally, Poe pulled away, he was smiling again—and Finn was, too. Kriff, he was smiling so much that his cheeks hurt, and Poe laughed at the sight of his lover beaming, squeezing his hands one more time. “I love you. My whole life, I wanted to give that ring to someone who I would spend the rest of my life with. And Finn, I— kriff.” He shook his head again, and this time, when his eyes met Finn’s, there was such an intensity behind them that Finn felt struck to his very core. No—he felt _loved_ to his very core. “I want that to be you.”

Finn realized he was crying a little too late. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, yes, but they were _happy_ tears, and he distantly recognized that he was laughing, too. It felt like every emotion in the world was pumping through his veins, and he shook his head, overwhelmed and overstimulated and so, so in love as his gaze focused on Poe Dameron again.

When he spoke, his voice was a little hoarse, a little scratchy, and very much vulnerable. “I want that to be me, too.” This time, he was the one leaning in, the one pulling Poe into a much-needed kiss—and when they finally pulled apart, they were both laughing, both overflowing with the joy of loving and being loved.

They stayed like that for longer than Finn cared to admit, giggling and kissing and holding each other like two kids in love. That was what Finn felt like, though, and he never wanted the feeling to fade. Even as they settled back into bed at the end of the night, he kept Poe in his arms, kept his eyes staring into the other man’s as they laid their heads onto their pillows.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” Poe murmured, a playful smirk still on his lips, and Finn shook his head, wondering how it was possible to love someone so much.

“Sweet dreams,” he replied in turn, half-sarcastically, because their dreams were never sweet. Their dreams were full of nightmares, monsters and pain and death chasing them into the depths of sleep.

But when they were awake—when they were awake, and together, and in love—well. That was sweet enough to make up for any nightmares.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> i can never get enough of poe loving his mother, so. there's that.
> 
> if you liked this, perhaps you may like some of my ~ other works ~ (hint: they are all finnpoe and all have happy endings because that is what finnpoe deserves.)
> 
> also if you liked this: perhaps consider leaving kudos or (if you're really feeling it) a comment! they will fuel me to create more things that (hopefully) you might (possibly) also enjoy.
> 
> if you want to chat about finnpoe or literally anything else, you can find me on tumblr @dotnscal and twitter @lascndot
> 
> thank you for reading!!!


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